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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28420902">Angel, It's Cold Outside</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyourleft084/pseuds/theycallmeDernhelm'>theycallmeDernhelm (onyourleft084)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>and after all this time/i’m still into you [38]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Love Confessions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkwardness, Aziraphale in denial, Cuddling, Drinking, Drunk Crowley, M/M, Obligatory Holiday Fic, Pining, Pre-Armageddon, Songfic, The Arrangement, the christmas truce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:41:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28420902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyourleft084/pseuds/theycallmeDernhelm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Crowley,..” Aziraphale sighed. “You really can’t stay...” </p><p>Crowley pouted like a child. “Angel, it’s cold outside.” </p><p>“You have got to go away,” Aziraphale said firmly, dragging Crowley to his feet. It wasn’t hard, with his strength, to deposit Crowley right way up, and even steady him when he swayed a little. </p><p>“Angel, didn’t you hear me?” Crowley slurred. “It’s cold outside.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>and after all this time/i’m still into you [38]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515578</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Angel, It's Cold Outside</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It didn’t often snow in London. But Aziraphale considered it just his luck that when it did, he happened to have his wily adversary in the bookshop, making a house call. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This wasn’t exactly a <em>new</em> thing. Crowley had been coming around since 1914, after they’d both orchestrated the Christmas Truce just to share a drink and get some peace and quiet for once. Aziraphale was fairly certain this was one of <em>his</em> ideas, remembered encouraging Crowley away from chaos for once (<em>“Think about it, dear boy, you deserve a break after all the discord you’ve been fomenting since the start of the war! And I get a bit of a holiday too if I’m not trying to thwart you. Why don’t you start a few rousing Christmas carols and I’ll blithely suggest a gift exchange?”</em>) but now he was wondering whether this tradition of theirs was starting to bite him in the backside. Crowley was, at this moment, overstaying his visit. Tomorrow was Christmas. Aziraphale had a full day ahead of him, ensuring the continuance of peace And goodwill on earth. He couldn’t very well get started with a demon on the premises. In any case, what if one of his colleagues found out? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crowley always knew the risks. He knew when to leave, when to make himself scarce. It was just that tonight...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Well, tonight Crowley was very, very drunk. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I always say,” he said, from a very undecorous upside-down position on an armchair, “that reindeer should be impossible. Impossible! ‘S practically a tree...and a horse. Can’t be two things.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The eagle owl, bullfrog and whale shark disagree, my dear,” said Aziraphale in a strained voice. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crowley blinked at him, realising Aziraphale had just made a point. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What was She thinking?” He said anyway. “When she put branches on their heads? Don’t they get all tangled in things?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They find their ways,” Aziraphale replied patiently. He put down his glass of eggnog and got to his feet. “And now, inebriated as you are, I’m afraid you must get going.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get going?” sputtered Crowley. He twisted in his chair, trying to get upright. “I don’t believe it. You’re kicking me out! In this weather!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Crowley,..” Aziraphale sighed. “You really can’t stay...” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crowley pouted like a child. “Angel, it’s cold outside.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have got to go <em>away,</em>” Aziraphale said firmly, dragging Crowley to his feet. It wasn’t hard, with his strength, to deposit Crowley right way up, and even steady him when he swayed a little. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Angel, didn’t you hear me?” Crowley slurred. “It’s cold outside.” He stumbled, clutching the lapel of Aziraphale’s cardigan. Aziraphale caught the whiff of whiskey-scented breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, I’m not falling for your wiles this time, serpent.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So you’re saying you didn’t enjoy my company at all?” whined Crowley. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Aziraphale quickly backtracked. “Well I didn’t say that...” Crowley was his only friend, after all. He did enjoy his company, he just couldn’t...couldn’t have it all the time. “This evening has been so very nice—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was surprised by Crowley reaching down to grab something for balance and landing on his hands. After the initial shock, Aziraphale realised that Crowley’s hands were...warm. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh,” Crowley said, looking up at him with big yellow eyes. “Your hands are cold. Just like ice.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well,” Aziraphale said. “I did forget to wear my gloves. Quite hard to turn pages with them, after all. Now, let me show you to the door.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Angel, c’mon. It’s bad out there,” Crowley wheedled. Then quite suddenly, his face changed, going from annoyed to awestruck in a moment. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wow.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wow what?” Aziraphale said irritably. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your eyes are like starlight, now,” Crowley said, in a stunned voice. He cleared his throat. “And your hair looks...swell.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was an unexpected compliment. Aziraphale could count on one hand the occasions when Crowley had complimented him over the last six thousand years, and he wasn’t sure which of those had been sarcastic either. This one, however, seemed as honest as they could get. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why, um, thank you,” he responded, as a stiff breeze rattled the windows and sent snowflakes hurtling past. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me stay, please,” Crowley pleaded. “Just until the snow lets up. I’m a snake, I’m cold-blooded, are you going to throw me out in that mess and let me freeze to death?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I ought to say no, no, no <em>sir</em>—“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mind if I move in closer?” mumbled Crowley, shouldering close to Aziraphale somewhat apologetically. Poor thing, his teeth were actually chattering. Was this genuine, like the compliment he made? Or was it a clever ploy to stay longer and drink Aziraphale’s entire liquor collection dry? Aziraphale had no way to know right away...but he did know that Crowley, his friend, was cold. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nobody has to know,” Crowley continued. “Anyway, your side finds out I was here, you tell ‘em I was just too good, y’know? Tell ‘em I was too sneaky and I brought this- this wine...” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I would tell them that I attempted to eject you from my business immediately,” Aziraphale said firmly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. But you failed.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Aziraphale sighed, exasperated. “Well, at least I can say that I tried...” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crowley grinned. “What’s the sense in hurting my pride?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">God strike them both, he was actually snuggling into Aziraphale right now, seeking the warmth from him. <em>This is wrong!</em> screamed a shrill Michael-like voice in the back of his head, but he lifted his arm and Crowley fit right perfectly under there and oh, oh it felt so right, it felt safe.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Crowley, you know you really can’t stay, right?” Sometimes Aziraphale hated himself, and how easy to was for him to remain reasonable. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Angel. It’s fucking cold outside.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You simply <em>must</em> go.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But—“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The answer is <em>no</em>. I have welcomed you to my home as an expression of goodwill, but I’m afraid I can’t let you take any more advantage. So please.” He gestured toward the door. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But look out the window at that storm!” exclaimed Crowley, flinging an arm wildly toward the window. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Aziraphale was determined to put his foot down. “I know you can miracle it away, Crowley. There isn’t anything left for you to do around here. My side will be...suspicious! Crowley,” he snapped, noticing the redhead’s gaze dropping slightly, his eyes unfocusing. “Are you even listening to me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crowley blinked. “Gosh. Your lips look delicious.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I beg your pardon?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It all happened too fast, as things usually did when Crowley was involved. Aziraphale was surprised by how close he was all of a sudden, the press of his lips, the taste of whiskey—the wetness, the sloppiness, the <em>honesty</em>. And it was terrifying, in so many ways, not the least of them the fact that Aziraphale now knew a sliver of the feelings that his best friend, his <em>only</em> friend, harboured toward him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh, they would be in so much trouble. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And again he hated how easy it was to remain reasonable, but <em>somebody</em> had to be. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No. Crowley,” Aziraphale said firmly. He planted a hand on the centre of Crowley’s chest, pushing back just a little. “What’s gotten into you?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, alright, I’m leaving. I’m gonna sober up and I’ll go. You know I’m gonna freeze out there?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll lend you a coat.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s up to my knees out there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lucky you’re driving, then. Listen...I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. For what it’s worth, you’ve really been grand,” he added, pacifically. “But don’t you see—“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crowley pouted again, looking comically betrayed. “How can you do this to me?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Something tugged at Aziraphale’s heartstrings, just a little. “It’s enough of a risk that you came over in the first place, let alone stay so long...there’s bound to be talk. At least there will be plenty implied.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Um, yeah, that you kicked me out into a storm, and I caught pneumonia and <em>died,” </em>retorted Crowley.<em> “</em>I mean, what if I was human?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Begone from my presence at once, serpent,” Aziraphale declared, “or I shall have to smite you!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crowley looked up at him with a crooked, helpless smile. “Aw, don’t you see, Angel?” He said breathlessly. “I’m already smitten.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There could have been a lot of things that happened, then. Aziraphale could have kissed him again. They could have returned to the couch and finished another bottle and kissed, and kissed, and kissed all night, without even needing a leaf of mistletoe. But that was not what happened. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Aziraphale swallowed down his feelings, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. He took Crowley’s arm and steered him toward the coat stand in the foyer. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re quite drunk, dear boy. You’d better be going.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Going,” Crowley mumbled. “Yeah.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Aziraphale gently lifted off Crowley’s greatcoat, his long blood red scarf. They were, like all of Crowley’s things, perfectly tailored, impeccable down to the last stitch. Aziraphale knew it tapered just so around the waist, accentuating Crowley’s slender figure, the big lapels making his narrow waist seem even wider. Even after sobering up with a miracle, Crowley seemed too disoriented to put it on himself, so Aziraphale helped him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I really can’t stay, can I?” He said, wretchedly, as Aziraphale straightened the collar. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The angel looked genuinely sorry. “I’m afraid not.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right. Goodnight, then.” Crowley put his sunglasses on with a snap. “Merry Christmas, Angel.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He slunk out the door and into the Bentley, and it was only after the roar of the engine died in the distance that Aziraphale released the breath he’d been holding all this time.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p> </p><hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Years passed, as they were wont to pass. Times changed. They almost came to an end, for a start. Somehow Aziraphale survived it, and Crowley survived it with him. It wasn’t just the times that changed, Aziraphale realised, sitting on a bench in Tadfield in the dark waiting for a bus to arrive. He’d changed, too. So had Crowley. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They held hands for the first time that night, on the way back to London. And once they’d started, well...they could hardly stop. They held hands after their date at the Ritz. They held hands in concerts, galleries, the tops of buses. They held hands as they sat side by side in the Bentley, and at Crowley’s favourite movie theatre, and on the couch tonight, as the record player played a Cappella Christmas carols and the lights they’d put on the tree blinked cheerfully. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And it was snowing, again, like that night all those years ago. They didn’t talk about it. They didn’t have to.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Crowley snuggled up to him, wearing a pair of felt reindeer horns and a truly abhorrent Christmas jumper. This time Aziraphale pulled him close. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Angel,” he purred, sleepy and content. “It’s cold outside.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A feeble attempt at a Christmas songfic. Happiest of holidays to all! 2021 can't come soon enough...</p></blockquote></div></div>
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